


Night Maneuvers

by terma_archivist



Category: Once a Thief (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-12-20
Updated: 2001-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:29:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26535847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/terma_archivist/pseuds/terma_archivist
Summary: Mac gets company on Christmas Eve. Smut ensues.
Relationships: Victor Mansfield/Mac Ramsey
Collections: TER/MA





	Night Maneuvers

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alicettlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [TER/MA](https://fanlore.org/wiki/TER/MA) and was moved to the AO3 as part of the Open Doors project in 2019. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are the creator and would like to claim this work, please contact me using the e-mail address on [the TER/MA collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/terma/profile).  
> DISCLAIMER: Alliance owns them, we borrow them. We don't profit from it (okay, maybe we do, just a little, sans monetary gain). Can we help it if they're cute and sexy and irresistible? BETA: Orithian and Laura NC-17 for m/m sex—you were expecting anything else from us?! LOL!

**Night Maneuvers  
by Jennie and Jami Wilsen**

  
Something's bothering Vic. No, he hasn't done anything TOO odd—he's just... not acting like Vic normally acts at Christmas time. I mean, he's usually the first one to get his shopping done and doesn't hesitate to gloat over this fact when the rest of us are running around like idiots buying last minute gifts. So far I haven't heard the first word from him about gifts or shopping this year. And, for the first time since I've known him, he hasn't put up a tree. I was over there the other day—not one single holiday decoration in sight. 

Very strange. 

When I asked him what was up, he just shrugged as if it was of no consequence. SO not Victor. 

Maybe I should go over there tonight. It is Christmas Eve, after all. The Director and LiAnn have gone away together (nope, you'll get no further comment on that from me). Dobie, the Cleaners—hell, even creepy old Nathan—all have plans. As far as I know, though, Vic's just sitting in his apartment. All by himself. Surely he wouldn't mind a little company... 

Yeah, you're right. He'd just get pissy with me. As he generally does when I show up at his place. And, since he only comes over here under orders from Di, I guess we'll each spend the holiday in splendid isolation. 

Gee, I love Christmas. 

Well, fuck it. If I'm gonna sit here depressing myself by thinking about Vic, I might as well have a drink—or three—and really wallow. That'll be my gift to myself—an entire evening of nothing but eggnog and thoughts of Vic. 

Yeah, I said that. What the hell, right? Why bother to hide it? I have the hots for my partner. My male partner. My heterosexual, male partner. Don't even say it—I know already—I'm a fool. Hey, YOU try working with him every day and see what happens! It'll happen to you, too. I guarantee it. Granted, I bitch about him a lot, can't help that—he can be one VERY irritating bastard. And sure, we argue and snipe at each other. Can't help that either. Hell, if I stopped arguing with him, the Earth would probably stop spinning or something. 

It's just the way things are. The way he is. The way I am. 

And this really sucks without a drink to take the sharp edge off—to dull the reality of the situation. Excuse me for just a sec—I'm gonna go mix up a pitcher of eggnog. 

* * *

I'm considering hurling the remote control out the window in frustration. There is nothing on TV, and if I sit through 'It's a Wonderful Life', I know I'll end up drinking scotch and going through a box of Kleenex. 

Okay, so. I'm sitting here getting more and more agitated. I'm trying to pretend I don't know why I'm getting worked up but damn it! He's so goddamned irritating even when he isn't around! Just the THOUGHT of him is annoying. He gets under my skin. The only time I find myself able to talk with him without ending up back in the same old sniping routine is when we're both concerned about LiAnn. And to be honest, I'm sick of being 'concerned about LiAnn'. 

I'm not sure but I think that Di and LiAnn are... you know... I can't help this big old grin at the thought. I mean, think about it. Those two?! Jesus, it'd be like watching a caged tiger-fight... Nah, on second thought, I wouldn't bother. 

No, no, this won't do at all. And pacing the floor doesn't help. Wearing a hole in my carpet isn't going to change the fact that— 

This place is empty. Except for me, there's no living soul. Maybe if I get a dog... 

Or a girlfriend. 

No, she'd never forgive me for the intensive and thorough once-over and then twice-over that the Agency would subject her to, just for the honor of being my steady partner. Flashes in the pan are easier because they don't ask too many questions and never get close enough to— 

-To really get to know me. Right. 

Screw this. I'll just go over, knock on his door. 

Ah, hell, what would be the point? There's no fucking way he's sitting at home like a loser; he'll be out and about. Partying on the town. I can't think of any reason why he'd be glad to see MY face at his door. Me, the 'conservative bore'. 

Hm. Come to think of it, there aren't many places open on Christmas. 

That's it. I'll just drive over, on the off chance that he's sitting at home trying not to watch TV, too. Hopefully he'll be out, and he won't have any idea that I made a complete and utter fool of myself. 

* * *

So, we were talking about Vic, right? Yeah, well, he IS just about the best-looking guy I've ever met. Have you ever looked at his eyes? I mean, REALLY looked at them? Jesus, there really should be some kind of law to protect unwary citizens from those eyes. I'll fall into cliches if I try to describe them for you; besides, no words could possibly do them justice. 

It's not just the color, you know. It's... well, you know that old saying about eyes being the window to the soul? Okay. Vic is a walking example of just that. If you know him at all, just about everything he thinks and feels is revealed clearly in the green depths of his eyes. 

Well, I did warn you—a poet I ain't. 

And, honestly, all the snarky things I say to him, about him, are mostly camouflage. Can't be too careful around Vic. If he ever caught on—figured out exactly how I feel about him—well, my life wouldn't be worth living. He'd never let me live it down. 

It sucks, ya know? It really... sucks. 

I think... I think I need more eggnog. Ah, hell, forgot to bring the nutmeg in with me. 

Shit! Now someone's at the door. Who the fuck would be at my door at this hour on Christmas Eve? It's not THAT late, but still... 

Cautiously, I peer through the spyhole. Step back. Blink. Check again. Yep, he's there all right. Vic. At MY door. Can't be work—all's quiet on that front—so, what the hell could be wrong? 

Suddenly worried, I pull the door open. He stares at me as if he's never seen me before and can't imagine why I'm here. Now, Vic can be a little out there at times, I will grant you that. But, even for him, this is strange behavior. 

"Vic?" 

He blinks. (I forgot to mention his eyelashes earlier, didn't I? Long. Silky. Luxuriant. Lush. _Sigh_ ) Ever so casually, he cranes his neck to look behind me into the apartment. "You busy?" he asks. 

"Nope. I, uh—" SHIT. I sound like a complete ninny. "Come on in, Vic. I was just having some eggnog," I say, as I walk back to the couch. "You want some?" 

He's followed me in and removed his coat. Guess he'll be staying for at least a little while. After looking at my glass and at the pitcher, he shrugs. "Sure, Mac. That would be good." 

"Fine—go get a glass for yourself," I tell him. No need to let on that I'd be more than happy to get one for him. That would be a very bad precedent to set, I think. 

No argument, no nasty remarks about my lack of hosting abilities. He just goes to the kitchen, retrieves a glass, returns, sits at the opposite end of the sofa, and pours himself a drink. 

"What's wrong, Vic?" 

* * *

I choke on my mouthful. Not that it's bad, quite the opposite in fact. "'Wrong'? Why?" I stare at him, trying to ascertain from his expression what the hell COULD be wrong. 

He waves a hand negligently. "You. Here. Now. I don't get it. There must be something wrong. What's up?" 

Ohhh. Okay. I get it now. Usually, I wouldn't be here unless there WAS something wrong. Shit. Very bad error in judgment to come here. "Look, Mac, if you're expecting company or... whatever, just say so. I'm gone, I'm history." 

"No, no," he corrects me hastily. "It's just so not like you, that's all." 

Damn. I'm starting to panic here. Gotta keep hold of the situation somehow. Can't have him thinking that I came over just because I was— 

"Lonely? Hey, Vic, it's okay, you know. It really sucks, doesn't it?" 

I gape at him. 

He nods, sagely. "Christmas Eve is one of the loneliest times of the year to spend alone. Very dangerous. So many suicides." 

I raise my brows. "I am not suicidal." 

"Wasn't implying that you were," he replies mildly. 

I clear my throat, wondering how the fuck to keep a hold of what remains of my dignity. "I actually thought YOU could use the company... Everyone else is away and..." 

Mac is grinning at me. 

"What?" 

He nods again. "LiAnn and Di are, you know..." 

I snicker, unable to help myself. "I know." 

His face takes on a look of speculation. "Do you think—?" 

I nod. "Yep." 

We exchange a glance and then both shake our heads. "No," I mutter. "We don't need to see that." 

He looks askance at me. "Could be enlightening." 

"I would rather live in ignorance," I declare, holding up the eggnog to the light in a prayerful manner before sipping. 

"Amen," he agrees. 

A silence descends. I'm starting to feel uncomfortable again. "Nothing on television." 

"Nope. Absolutely nothing," he agrees. 

Fuck. This is starting to feel like a process of elimination. The space of a few lazy feet between us on the couch is starting to dance with tension, and I'm wondering just how much alcohol he PUT in this stuff, anyway? 

"Starting to feel it, huh?" 

Jerking my head up, I notice that he's got a careful, serious and thoughtful expression on his face. What the hell is going through his mind? "Yeah. You really loaded it, didn't you?" 

He shrugs. 

The silence continues. I'm starting to feel jittery. What the hell is wrong with me? 

* * *

I think it's a toss up as to which of us is more nervous. He's a little more obvious about it, but I'm not hiding my reaction to him as well as I usually do. Which is not good. Because I want him to stay. I really do. But Vic and tense situations of a personal nature do not mix well together. I'd better come up with something to calm him down—soon—or he'll be out of here the second his drink is finished. 

"How about some music?" 

"Sure, Mac," Vic says carelessly. "Whatever." 

Okay. Now I'm starting to get worried. Not even one comment about my dreadful taste in music? This is so far from normal Vic-like behavior that I don't even know what to say. 

I get up and go to the CDs. Choose a jazz collection that he got me for my birthday last year—in one of his cute-but-irritating attempts to educate me on the merits of such things. 

The music starts just as I'm sitting down again. 

Vic sits forward suddenly. "Mac!" he practically gasps. 

Shit! What the hell? Awkwardly, I try to stop my downward momentum, discover that it's too late, twist my hips in an attempt sit gracefully, tilt sideways, and end up sprawled all over the couch with my head resting on his thigh. 

"Mac?" 

"Victor, what the hell are you trying to DO? I could've hurt myself there," I sputter, pushing myself back up to a sitting position. 

"What's wrong with you? I was just surprised by the music, that's all." 

Uh huh. Right. If the defensive tone of voice doesn't give him away, the slow tide of red creeping over his face surely would. It's more that the fact that I've put a jazz CD on to play... So what gives? 

"You," I say accusingly, when the light suddenly dawns, "didn't think I'd keep it, did you?" 

"Keep what?" And doesn't he look innocent, asking me that? I'll bet butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. 

I sigh. "Victor, you are a pain in my ass. But, as pains in the ass go— well, I guess you're not so bad. Of course I kept the CD; you bought it for me, right?" 

Well, I think that might have been the wrong thing to say. He's staring at me, wide-eyed, and his pretty lips are parted just enough for me to see the tip of his tongue. 

* * *

What to say, what to say... What CAN I say? Fuck! He's nailed me. I'd given him that CD merely to make a point... and here he is, keeping it and even playing it. I remember to close my mouth, then find myself licking my lips, nervously. 

I really don't know why I thought this was a good idea. What on earth possessed me to drive over here? Why am I staying? Why haven't I left already? 

He's being so—so—so normal. But there's something not quite right about this. I can feel it. I can't help thinking he's somehow given away the game, here. And I missed it. Finally, I draw a breath. "Mac, am I supposed to believe that you LIKE it? You actually LIKE this?" I point at the stereo. 

He shrugs, more defensively. "I'm not saying I play it all the time, but I can listen to it. It's bearable, considering some of the ancient stuff you drag out sometimes." 

Damn, he looks slightly wounded, as if—how DARE I imagine that he wouldn't keep it...? Okay, that is it. I'm officially in another realm, one where Mac actually gives a damn about MY musical tastes—and my opinion of his! This is SO not like him. 

I guess that makes two of us. It's so not like me to come over here. Why am I here? Why am I staying? Oh right, I already asked that. Didn't have an answer then, don't have one now. Tentatively, I say, "Mac? Is it me, or is there some important piece of this puzzle that I'm missing? Because for the life of me, I cannot understand a world where you listen to jazz. It's not a put down or an attempt to mock you. I'm just—kind of—it doesn't make sense." I frown, deeply puzzled. 

Mac is snickering at me. "You're really out there, aren't you, Mansfield? Look, Vic, this is not a big deal. Yes, it's jazz. Yes, it's the CD YOU gave me. And yes, I'm playing it now. I thought you might appreciate hearing it, since you're over. What is so confusing about that?" 

My head is whirling. Maybe he doesn't see it; but the fact that he's playing it, it's almost a little message to me—'see, Vic? I kept it, and it mattered to me'. It's official, I'm cracking up. Drop it, quick. It's too hot a potato. 

"Nothing, I guess." I clear my throat and stare mournfully into the bottom of my glass. "I need more," I announce, then stand and look meaningfully down at him. He hands me his empty glass, with a smirk. 

Picking up the pitcher, I pour us both a second generous helping. Shaking my head at the jazz music still pouring soulfully from the stereo, I turn and hand him his eggnog. 

Sitting back against the cushions, I sip it and take a breath. "So, what are your plans for tomorrow?" 

"Not much. Thought I'd sit here and nurse the hangover I intend to give myself tonight." 

"Hm. Yeah. So was I. Then I thought maybe it'd make more sense for us to do it together, rather than separately. Makes a funny kind of logic, wouldn't you say?" 

Mac is chuckling over his glass again. "Vic, you're starting to worry me. 'Do it together'?" 

This time, I feel my face turn hot. Bright, burning hot. FUCK. "Fuck you, Ramsey," I growl. "We're not in high school." 

"Sure, Mansfield. Anytime, Mansfield. And anytime you want to drop the high-school lingo, man, that's cool with me, too." He's still snickering. 

"In your dreams," I retort. Then I stop, backing up slightly. That was REALLY a stupid thing to say, the wrong thing to say... I think I left my brain back at my flat. I'll shut up now. I think I've managed to make an even bigger fool of myself than I thought possible. 

And WHY the hell are my hands trembling? 

* * *

He's... Vic's flustered. He's red in the face, his eyes are darting around the room as if he's looking for the secret passage that will return him to sanity, and his hands are shaking. How... interesting. I wonder if he ever- 

"So, Vic, ever do it with a guy?" 

Damn good thing I'm sitting so close. Otherwise, his full glass of eggnog would be decorating my carpet. I just barely manage to get to his end of the sofa as the glass slips from his apparently nerveless fingers. 

"Vic?" 

Nothing. 

I wave one hand in front of his face. Snap my fingers right under his nose. "Vic!" 

Still nothing. He's just sitting there. Staring at me. Doing a credible imitation of a guppy, mouth opening and closing wordlessly. 

"Helloooo, Victor. Anyone in there?" I rap on his head with my knuckles. 

He jerks back and does his feeble best to glare at me. Can't quite pull it off, though. No, the poor guy is just too stunned, I think. "W-w-what? What did you say?" 

With an engaging grin, I sit back against the cushions—still next to him. I'm no fool—contrary to popular belief. It's not often that I catch him this off-guard. I plan to take every advantage I can tonight. "I said, 'have you ever done it—" 

"Yeah, yeah," he says hastily, cutting off my words. "Heard you the first time. But, why? Why would you ask me that?" 

"Oh, I dunno. I was thinking about LiAnn and the Director, and I just... was curious, I suppose." Damn, I can sound innocent when the occasion calls for it. 

He clears his throat and looks at the tree. "Nice tree," he says. 

Smooth, Vic. Very smooth. 

"Thanks," I say. "So? Have you? Ever done it—" 

"NO." 

Oookay. "Ever want to?" 

He just looks at the tree. 

On to plan two. "I have." 

* * *

Wonderingly, I stare back at him. He has? Wait. I rub my forehead. "You— you have?" 

He just nods. And watches me. 

My head is starting to hurt. What does he WANT? No, I don't want to know. What I want to know is—"Wait. You have? What, you've done it with a guy before? Or you've wanted to? Which one is it?" 

Slowly, Mac says, "You know, Vic, if I didn't know better, I'd say that you're in shock. Have I shocked you?" 

"No," I retort. "You haven't 'shocked' me. You can't shock me. I used to work Vice... There is very little that would shock me. But..." I trail off, wondering what it was that I was doing here, to end up in THIS conversation. Testily, I say, "Can I have my eggnog back, please?" 

Mac considers me doubtfully. "Not yet. I'll give it a couple more minutes, and THEN you can have your eggnog back. But I'm still not convinced. Vic, I really do think I've put you in shock." He shakes his head. "I didn't mean to. I didn't think a simple question about your previous love-life would upset you so badly." 

This is getting so far out there, I'm not sure we'll find our way back. Ever. I stare at him incredulously. "'Love-life'? Mac, I—you—" 

He sighs. "On second thought, maybe you'd better have it back." He holds the glass of eggnog out, waiting for me to take it. I can't help staring at it, and at his hand. 

"It won't bite you," he says gently. "Neither will I. Come on, Victor, take the eggnog." 

I do so, careful to avoid touching his fingers. My hand is still trembling. This is bad. I feel like an idiot. "Mac, what are you saying? That you've wanted to try it with another guy?" 

He shrugs. "Yeah. Why not? I mean, come on. Honestly, can you say it's never crossed your mind?" 

I consider this, seriously and honestly. Finally, I have to say, "No, I can't." 

"A-ha. So it isn't exactly a foreign concept, then. Great." 

I wait. And wait longer. "What? Is that it? You just wanted to know if I..." 

"Yeah." 

"And?" 

"And what?" Mac stares back at me, mystified. 

"Why?" I prompt. I can't let this go now. "Why did you want to know? Why were you curious about it in the first place?" 

"JE-sus, Vic! You're acting like this is such a huge hairy deal. I was only asking, that's all." 

His gaze slides away from mine, but I caught that look. Yes, I did. I blink. "Mac, are you interested in me? Is that what this is about?" I have a sinking sense of familiarity with all this. Although I can't ever remember having such a blatant and open talk with another guy about it that wasn't somehow 'safe' or riddled with innuendo and jokes... 

Somehow, I feel like there isn't any going back from this. At this point, I don't think I have choice, either. I feel like I'm waaaay out of my league. 

* * *

Well, he's managed to turn the tables on me pretty goddamned well now, hasn't he? And, since I've been pushing him fairly hard on a very personal subject —without getting pounded into the ground—well, I suppose the least I can do is make that first leap. 

Hey, SOMEONE has to do it. If I leave it up to Vic, he'll run for the hills and might never emerge from whatever cave he takes refuge in. So—deep breath, look up, meet his eyes, smile. 

"Yes," I say with as much quiet confidence as I can find within me. 

"Huh?" 

Okay, so he can be a little dim at times. 

"Yes, I'm interested in you, Vic. Yes, that's what this is all about." 

"I... but... you—" Flustered, he snaps his mouth shut and stares at the tree. 

I think that tree is gonna go out the window soon. If he doesn't stop staring at the fucking thing as if it holds the key to what he obviously thinks is a serious case of sudden-onset insanity. 

"How long?" He's still staring fixedly at the tree, but at least his voice is steady—and he's not making any moves for the door. 

"Um, started after you and LiAnn broke off the engagement." 

THAT gets his attention. Swiveling around to face me, he watches my expression closely. (Running away myself is starting to look like a damn good idea now) "That long? But, Mac... That's almost three years." 

I shrug uncomfortably. And, hey, whaddya know, I'm starting to find that tree pretty interesting myself. "Believe me, Vic, I know EXACTLY how long it's been." 

"Sooo, you're, um, you really are sure about this? That you... " He waves a hand vaguely in the air. 

"That I want you?" I sigh and steel myself to look at him. "Yeah, Vic. I'm sure." And I turn my head just a little, allowing his curious gaze to capture my eyes. 

"What—exactly—is it that you want?" 

Jesus! Didn't I just TELL him what I want? C'mon, Mansfield, work with me here. It's not easy to suppress the instinct to snap at him for being an idiot, but somehow I manage. "Look, I don't—I mean, I told you that I never... you know. I've done some uh—research—but, I've never actually TRIED anything with another guy." 

He frowns. Gee, I just can't resist that cute little fold on his forehead— I want to reach out and soothe it away with my lips. I am SO fucked. Why? Don't be stupid—let's just call a spade a spade, okay? 

I'm in love with the guy. 

"Have you wanted to—with another guy?" 

I rub my eyes tiredly and slump into the cushions of the couch. Stare at the tree again—glad I didn't toss it out the window after all. "No. Just you. Just you, Vic." 

* * *

He wants me. Mac WANTS me. MAC wants me... He wants ME. Frowning, I ask, "Why me?" 

Mac lets out a sigh of exasperation. "Jesus, what do I have to do? Hit you over the head with it?" 

I blink at him, not sure why he's so upset. But I'm starting to get the picture, here. 

Just me. 

And I can't stop the smile from sliding onto my face. For some reason, Christmas doesn't seem so empty. Except—the smile fades inside and out. How is this going to affect our team? Of course Di already has her claws in LiAnn... The smile returns. 

"Tell you what, Ramsey, I'll give you a freebie on this. If there was just one guy I would consider, it would be you." It's a concession, sure, but I have to think about this. 

"Thanks. I'm flattered. Really, I feel so honored, Vic." Mac's voice drips sarcasm. But he isn't meeting my eyes. 

"No, seriously. I could consider it. In fact, I am. Kind of inescapable, now. Okay, so let's talk about this. I mean, you and me... It could be— good." I'm nodding. 

Mac is giving me a funny look. 

"What?" I ask, wondering why. 

"You think? It could be 'good'," he says. 

I nod again. "Yeah, I think it could. It would." In fact, it's starting to make more and more sense with each passing moment. Or is it, each passing moment with this eggnog..? "It will." I turn to look at him. 

Now his mouth is open and he's staring at me. "Victor, do you know what you're saying?" 

"Yeah. You and me, Mac. Interesting idea. I think we should give it a shot." 

He shakes his head, swiftly. "Nope. No. Not a shot." 

I raise my brows in surprise. "All or nothing?" My voice squeaks embarrassingly on the last word. 

"Can you see anything resembling a viable team dynamic in our future if we don't do this right the first time?" 

Hm. "Good point. So, I guess, yeah." 

Mac's brown eyes look rather vulnerable now. "Yeah?" 

I nod. And clear my throat, feeling awkward now that I'm having to actually consider it. Kissing him. What would it be like, to press my lips to his? What would it be like, touching him? Curiously, I think I'm looking forward to it. Oooookay. This is worrying. I think I've been wondering for a while now. 

"Vic? Are you sure?" 

"Yeah, I am." I look over at him, wondering what happens next. Would it be appropriate for me to make the first move? Do I WANT anything to happen yet? Can I handle it? I think I'm just a little bit nervous about this. Just a little bit, mind you. But still, kissing another guy, a relationship? With Mac? I haven't really THOUGHT about it much in the past. 

Mac says, "You know, I don't think you're ready for this." 

Panic seizes me, both to prove that I AM, and that I want him. I slide over, inching my way until I'm sitting right next to him. Putting a companionable arm around his shoulders, I say, "You know, I'm thinking that an ice breaker at this point would be better than talking about it." 

Mac smiles, weakly. "Okay. Sure, Vic. If you're sure." 

He's frozen though and can't seem to move. Which suits me fine. I lean over and press a kiss gently to his lips. Mm. Surprisingly nice. Really nice, in fact. Damn, I didn't think it would be so good! Hell, why haven't we been doing this for the last three years?! 

Before I can think about it, I'm climbing onto his lap, straddling him, taking his face in both my hands and kissing him senseless. 

* * *

Oh wow. Oh man. 

Oo-ooh. 

Vic's... he's... OhmyGOD! He's got his tongue down my throat and he's, well, he's in my lap. Rubbing against me. Against my aching erection and, hey! He's hard, too. 

I'll be damned. 

The cutest little whimper escapes him and I'm history. Suddenly, my arms are clenched around him with desperate need, and I'm kissing him back, and damn, when and how did it get so HOT in here? I didn't adjust the heater. Must be a Vic thing. 

And I don't care, not now. I just... god, I want him. Anything he'll give me. Anything at all. Someone groans. Okay, okay— _I_ groan. Loudly. All the strength has left my body, and I'm about to pass out from the sheer, overwhelming knowledge that this is VIC in my lap. 

With a kind of a sobbing gasp, I break away from his devouring lips. "Vic," I pant. "I... you... Jesus, Victor, I think I'm gonna have a heart attack here." 

He grins at me, looking entirely too pleased with himself for my taste. I mean, what the fuck? Wasn't I the aggressor just a minute or two ago? What happened to shy, confused Vic? Then, he pulls my shirttail out of my trousers, slides one hand under the fabric and pinches my nipple. 

"Ah," I gasp and shudder under his touch. 

That grin widens, becomes more than a little devilish, and he brings his other hand into play, pulling my shirt off over my head. Removes his own shirt. Leans into me and takes my mouth in another soul-destroying kiss while his VERY clever fingers tease both of my nipples. 

Which thrills the HELL out of every nerve ending in my body. So much so, that I start babbling. Yeah, I really give away the show now. "Vic, Vic... Please, Vic. Don't stop. Don't—I need—I... Jesus, you feel so... that's... More, please, Vic, more." 

Lucky for me, he restrains the laughter that MUST be fighting for release and maneuvers us around until I'm lying flat on my back and he's draped over me like my very own Victor Mansfield living blanket. His erection is pressed against my own, and it's so fucking GOOD that I'm suddenly right on the sharp edge of losing control and coming in my pants like a stupid kid getting laid for the very first time. 

That's kinda scary, y'know. Extremely frightening, in fact. If I could run, I would be SO out of here. But, since the IS my place, and I did start this, well... What he's DOING to me is so— 

"Ohmygod, VIC! I can't... I'm gonna... I—" 

"Take it easy, Mac. You're okay." 

"No," I protest. "Not okay. Never okay again. You, what have you DONE to me? I'll never be able to—no one else, Vic. Ever." 

I hear my words—in a vague kind of a way. And I know that I've just handed him the way to break me—wrapped in pretty paper with a great big bow on top. 

And I don't care. Not even a little. In fact, when his fingers start unbuckling my belt, all my cares just go right out the window. 

* * *

Damn it, have to get these clothes OFF of him! Now, right now. 

I'm fumbling with his belt, wondering how fast I can get MY jeans undone when his words sink into my mind. Happily, I muse on the fact that he's not just staring up at me with a panting, delirious look of mindless arousal, but that he's babbling. I've done this; I've reduced MAC—playboy and ladies' man, into a writhing heap. And god, he looks delicious this way. 

I lean down to trap his mouth under mine again. I can't help it; he's just too cute. 

Everything else stops except for the moaning which is now coming from both of us and the way Mac bucks upwards, reminding me that if we don't get free of these clothes soon, we will be coming in our shorts. 

I tear myself away from him, gasping, "Got—to get these—off." 

He seems to be in agreement as we stop momentarily to pull at our own clothes, my jeans coming down while he struggles to take his off. I finally give in and get up, stripping off my shorts, pulling off my boots and standing there, waiting for him to get his own down. I realize I'm still wearing my socks and that I'm standing here naked except for them. I take them off while he hastily strips. 

Mac is sitting there, naked, flushed, aroused and looking so hot—and bothered. I grin down at him and then move to push him slowly backwards once more, straddling him. His skin is so soft, and his cock is leaking slightly as it comes into contact with mine. I lean down and begin to kiss his neck, working my way down to his chest, to sample his pert nipples—first one and then the other. Moving down to his trim belly and waist with my lips, I'm crouched over his thighs. I move down further... and then I'm face to face with his cock. 

Okay, that was fast. I hadn't expected to find myself here like this... and so quickly. Somehow, it doesn't really feel... 'gay'. You know, 'gay' as in 'swishing'. Or even 'dragging'. I glance up at Mac and his eyes widen. I can tell he wants me to do it. I don't think he'd insist. I can also tell he is close to begging. 

I look back down at Mac's long, slender cock. It looks elegant and beautiful, actually. Like a scimitar. I should have known that his would resemble some kind of exotic blade. I touch it first, not too hard. I find myself palming it the way I like to touch my own, handling it surely but smoothly. 

Rubbing with my thumb just on the right spot, I can't help loving the way he arches his back and yelps, "Vic! Oh Jesus, Victor—" 

Time for the taste-test. I cautiously lick at the tip, tasting the saltiness there. Not bad. Tastes just like mine. His moan is almost enough to break me. Okay, okay—it IS enough to break me. And I know how badly I'd want this in his place. I open my mouth and take him in. 

He's shaking, trying not to move around too much. I glance up and notice that he looks like he's nearly hyperventilating. I think I've managed to shock HIM. 

Ha! I'll bet he thought I wouldn't have the nerve to go through with this. I let my left hand play lazily with his balls, tracing a finger wickedly up and down his perineum while he starts pleading in earnest. I finally start to lick my way along his dick... You know, this is NOT half-bad. I think I even like it. I could get into this. Like HE said—no one else. Of course, it's MAC, and I wouldn't consider it with anyone else. At least, I don't think so. Hm. A night of firsts, here. But somehow, it all seems okay because, after all, it's Mac, and not some—guy. 

Mac is nearly in a frenzy at this point. His fists are clenched, and he's shaken by tremors as he manages, "Oh god, Vic—I'm gonna—" 

And then, I realize he's about to come. Nope. Not yet. I hope he doesn't hate me for this. I grip his cock, firmly around the base, and hastily pull my mouth off of him. "You want to come in my mouth, Mac? Or do you want to come inside of me?" 

* * *

Inside? 

Of him? 

INSIDE of HIM? 

Just the thought, the vision that runs through my fevered mind, is almost enough to... 

Vic smiles at my open-mouthed stare. "What do you say, Mac? You want to fuck me?" And he slowly, teasingly, loosens his grip on the base of my cock and caresses the length from root to tip. "Tell me, Mac," he says huskily. "What do you want?" 

That voice of his. The words that wrap around my balls and bathe my entire body in warmth. The deadly combination is WAY too much for me. I gasp and arch under him, helplessly lost in the roaring, rushing, fucking INCREDIBLE joy of my release. 

"VIC!" I yell at the top of my lungs. "Yes! Oh GOD, Vic!" 

Quick as a cat, he leans down and catches the last few pulses of my orgasm in his mouth. 

My vision blurs, fades, is gone. Total whiteout, here. I think he's killed me. 

I'm shaking and shuddering and, uh, well, I'm pretty sure I'm crying. Kinda embarrassing. Not that I care. Hell no—all I care about is that he's here, on top of me, holding me safe, murmuring softly into my ear. He says it's okay. He has me. He won't let go. That I'm beautiful. 

That I'm his now. 

Yeah. His. If I weren't already crying, that'd do it. 

I manage to gather myself together enough to move my arms, which I immediately wrap around him, holding on with desperate strength. "Vic, I—" Um, okay, not gonna tell him exactly how I feel. Not yet. But... "I want you to—" I pause, wet my parched lips with my tongue, struggle onward, "I need you to... be inside... of me." 

"You... you do?" 

Why, how adorable. He squeaked. 

"Yes, Vic. I do. Now, if you don't mind." 

"Um. Ah. I... don't we need some kind of... stuff?" Damn, he's cute. Staring at me, his eyes so dilated with arousal that only the barest rim of green shows around the widened pupils. Hair all mussed. Lips swollen. 

I have got it BAD. 

And I don't even care anymore. All I care about is- 

"Vic. Hey, VIC!" I nudge at him with one hand, and lift my hips. "Get up. Bedroom, I think. Be easier in there, logistically speaking. 'sides, that 'stuff' we need is in there." 

* * *

I raise my head and stare up over the top of the couch. "It is? Then what the hell are we still doing out here?" 

I manage to clamber to my feet without kneeing him anywhere important and take his hand, helping him up. Gathering up all of our discarded clothes, we hastily adjourn to his bedroom. 

I hope to god he isn't having second thoughts. I turn to him, chewing my lips almost savagely. "Uh, the—the stuff? Can you get it?" 

"Oh! Right. Yeah." He turns to the bedside cabinet, opening a little drawer and removing a condom... and what looks exactly like the same brand of lube that I use. Excellent. He hands them to me like he's giving me the keys to the kingdom. I guess in a way, he is. 

Feeling slightly shaken, both at the enormity of his trust in me and the responsibility I now have to see this through properly... I shake my head and watch him as he eases himself down onto the bed with a goofy smile. My legs feel rubbery, and I sit down on the mattress next to him. I'm still hard— achingly so. He is watching me carefully, his smile changing into something a little more mischievous. He raises his knees up a bit on the bed, feet resting flat on the covers, his legs parted just enough to entice me. Those long, long legs. 

To be inside of him, with those legs wrapped around me? I suck in a breath. My mind seems to think it's some kind of runaway erotic circus of images, because I can't concentrate on the task at hand. Getting this goddamned wrapper off the condom. My fingers are trembling slightly. Fuck! At last... I unroll it over my length, then unscrew the bottle of lube. 

Looking over at Mac, I see he's got his lips pressed together and his eyes are glazed as he watches me. Not taking my eyes from his, I squirt a generous amount of lube onto my cock and then say, "Time to get you ready for me." 

He considers me, and breathing hard, he raises his hands above his head and parts his legs even further, going so far as to bring one leg up. Oh sweet Jesus... I don't think Mac has any idea how utterly fucking incredible he looks like that. I recall the lube with a start and reapply it to my hand, paying special attention to my fingers. Moving up onto the bed and settling down so that I'm in position, I press the tip of my first finger to his hole and wonderingly slide it in, so carefully. 

He sucks in a breath. Waiting. I realize he's waiting for me, so I oblige him by sliding in another inch. He gasps and I freeze, not wanting to hurt him. God, his ass is so tight, so hot inside... and clutching so tightly around my finger. The thought of my cock going inside there is unimaginable. And I'd never admit this to him, but I've never had a girlfriend before who was interested in doing it this way... Not even LiAnn. Maybe especially not LiAnn. 

Bad idea. Thoughts of LiAnn at this moment are somehow destructive to the mood. I lick my lips and look up at him, watching his face as I slide another inch of my finger into him, slowly. "That okay?" 

He's breathing hard. "Vii-iiic," he moans, a long, drawn-out sound that's nearly a wail. "Please, just, please." 

Ah, the begging and pleading has returned. THAT is a good sign. I working my finger in and out, allowing it to move back and forth just slightly, loosening him. When I add a second finger to the first, he arches his back and his chin goes up. His groan is heartfelt and makes my cock twitch. I can't believe how silky he is inside. I think he's ready. I hope he is. I don't think I can wait much longer. 

Climbing up, I remove my fingers and place my cock against his winking hole. "Oh, Mac." I don't think I can say anything else. Moving my hands to grip him behind his knees, on his thighs, I press forward, slowly. 

And then there is nothing else, nothing exists except for the sensation of my cock being almost sucked into his tight, hot, secret depths as he makes a keening sound. Agonizingly slowly, I impale him until he's practically sitting in my lap. 

Fuu-uck. I am NOT going to last very long, here. I can feel beads of sweat trickle down my sides, and it's an effort not to just let myself plunge repeatedly into him. I wait, frozen in place... Not daring to move. 

* * *

It's funny, I always thought that it would hurt. I did. Really. That's what all the books say—that the first time always, without fail, hurts. 

Not so. 

I was pretty nervous when we came in here to the bed. Oh, I did my best to hide it from Vic. He can be so... such a boy scout sometimes. If he'd caught wind of any hesitation on my part, well, it would've been over before it started. So, I just kept my mouth shut while he got me—and himself— ready. Concentrated on WHO rather than WHAT. 

And it worked. Really well. Extremely well, in fact. By the time he entered me, I was so fucking ready I'd have probably knocked him down and just SAT on his cock if he hadn't gotten on with it when I asked. 

Gonna be picky, huh? Fine, I begged. Oh, go to hell. Lemme tell you, if you were lucky enough to be laying in a bed, waiting to be fucked by Victor Mansfield—which I assure you, will NEVER happen... he's MINE—watching him sheath his cock with a condom, applying lube to himself, you be begging, too. 

Which is all well and good, but—DAMN, he just... what WAS that? His cock, I think it jerked, or pulsed—or something. Wow. Yeah. Um, I LIKE that. 

And if I like that, what'll it feel like when he— 

"Vic," I say urgently, opening my eyes and catching his dazed stare. "Move." 

He just stares at me. Okay, maybe English isn't his first language. So, I move my hips. Just a little nudge. 

Fireworks. 

I... that's... I never knew. I never fucking KNEW. Sure, I've read the books—I know, on an intellectual level, all about the prostate. Never quite worked up the nerve to go looking for it myself, though. 

I'm an idiot. Shoulda found this a LONG time ago. On the other hand, knowing me, it's probably best that I didn't. I'd have been found dead in my bed ages ago—the headline would have read: Man Jerks Himself Off To Death. 

Woo hoo—what a way to GO! 

"Vic. Victor. HEY! MANSFIELD!" 

"Huh? What?" He frowns down at me with concern. "Are you... okay?" 

"No. I am NOT okay. If you don't DO something—Vic, move. Fuck me." 

Very carefully, he withdraws about half of his length from me and pushes back in again. 

"Yeah," I groan, scrabbling at the sheets, not sure what to do with my hands. "More. Again." 

He reaches down and takes my hands in his, twines his fingers through mine, braces himself and repeats the motion. Pulls out even further the next time, and I'm ready for this, I'm so FUCKING ready I'm about to explode. As he thrusts forward, still showing great care, I growl and shove my hips up, impaling myself on his cock with a grateful yell of triumph. 

"That's IT, Vic. Yeah—More... harder... faster. NOW!" 

* * *

"My, you are one pushy, greedy little bastard, Ramsey," I pant. "You want it hard? You got it." I begin a punishing rhythm, letting my hips snap as I fuck him quicker, thrusting into his sweet, sweet hole. 

God, his ass... Fucking amazing. If only I had known. 

So tight, feels like I'm plunging my cock right up into his very being, his molten core. I feel joined to him, and I don't want to leave, ever. 

Fucking him like this, taking him, owning him, and feeling a little like I'm losing myself in him. With every shove of my cock into him, he emits this groan, the one that makes me want to ravage him. 

And why should I hold back any longer? Fuck, he's fucking begging me to do it hard. So, I'll give it to him just like he wants it. Hard. Ramming it into him... Ramming Ramsey... the thought trickles inside of me, and I can't help doing it harder. I want to hear him scream my name, want to hear him lose it, this time on my dick. He's mine, he's fucking MINE... 

And then I feel the euphoria rising inside of me, joined soon by the ecstatic pulse of pleasure as it shrieks through me, boiling up and pouring out of me —and into him. I'm gripping him as if for dear life. I can't help crying out as I buck against him, wanting to drive my cock into him as hard and as deep as I can. And I'm shaking as I realize that he's coming again, white spurts shooting up to land on his chest. 

I'm panting like I just ran several hundred yards, and my mind is gone. Really gone. A great, gaping hole where my brain once was. Blasted away when I came, I think. Came and went. Oh shit. I didn't know... 

I look down, and see the most blissful expression on Mac's face. I smile at him and say, shakily, "Now, THAT I could get used to." 

He just catches his lower lip between his teeth and grins back at me. "I didn't want to say this, Vic. But you're a fucking GOD." 

That makes me raise my eyebrows in disbelief. Catching my breath back at last, I say, "Mac, you're not so bad, yourself." 

"Shut up and kiss me," he slurs. As I lean down, I start to come out of him and he winces. "Careful, careful." 

"Damn it; sorry—" I move more slowly, letting my softening cock pull out of him gradually. I grab the condom and pull it carefully off of myself... and I check, just because. No blood. Relief goes through me and I pull myself up over him, as he brings his legs down. Settling in against his left side, I kiss him, slowly and lingeringly, no more rush, no more fever. Just tenderness. 

I close my eyes, squeeze them shut, tightly. How the hell did it happen? I think it was there all along. This overwhelming tenderness. It's more than just affection or desire. 

Fuck. I love him. 

I pull back, the realization dawning first in my brain and then seeping into my limbs as I let myself hold him more firmly. Giving him another kiss, I snuggle into him, my arm around his middle. 

"Merry Christmas," I murmur, feeling like I just shot my mind AND my heart into him along with my orgasm. I don't want to move. Ever. I'm going to stay here and shoot anyone who dares to come to the door to disturb me. And if Mac tries to say anything about that, I'll fuck him. Again. Somehow, I doubt he'll react negatively at the prospect. 

* * *

Wow. I mean... WOW! I am so fucking satisfied, I could probably die quite happily right now. 

"Mac?" 

"Mmm hmm?" 

"In the morning..." 

"Yeah?" 

"I want to try that." 

"Huh? Try what?" 

So, I'm not a rocket scientist after the most mind-numbing sexual experience of my life. Sue me. 

He pinches my ass. "Don't be an idiot, Mac. I want you to, you know, do that to me." 

OH! Okay! Absolutely NO problem there! 

Since I don't have the energy to dance madly around the room, shouting my happiness to the world, I settle for a shrug. "Sure, Vic. Anything you want." 

A contented murmur and he burrows his face against me. I sigh happily and prepare to fall asleep. Won't be having any nightmares tonight. No, no danger of that. I'm entirely satiated and happier than I can ever recall being. 

"Mac?" 

"Yeah, Vic?" 

"I... I think I uh—" 

A smile, so wide it almost hurts, appears on my face. "Yeah, Vic, I know. Me too." 

Merry Christmas, indeed. 

  
That's it, gang. Have a very merry... J&J 

* * *

* * *

TITLE: Night Maneuvers   
AUTHORS: Jennie and Jami Wilsen   
DATE: Dec 20, '01   
FANDOM: Once a Thief   
PAIRING: Vic/Mac   
RATING: NC-17 for m/m sex—you were expecting anything else from us?! LOL!   
ARCHIVE: Sure, just let one of us know   
FEEDBACK: Yes, [email removed]   
SERIES/SEQUEL: No.   
SPOILERS: No   
DISCLAIMER: Alliance owns them, we borrow them. We don't profit from it (okay, maybe we do, just a little, sans monetary gain). Can we help it if they're cute and sexy and irresistible?   
SUMMARY: Mac gets company on Christmas Eve. Smut ensues.   
BETA: Orithian and Laura   
---


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